


In the Maw of the Beast

by shamebucket



Category: Room No. 9 (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Whump Daichi, Bloodplay, Cannibalism, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Edgeplay, Extremely Dubious Consent, Knifeplay, M/M, POV First Person, Snuff kink (no actual snuff happens), Wound Fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:14:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28437468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamebucket/pseuds/shamebucket
Summary: It's been several years since Daichi and Seiji left the hotel, but Daichi feels just as trapped as he did when they were test subjects. Maybe they still are, in a twisted way.
Relationships: Azumi Seiji/Kobayashi Daichi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	In the Maw of the Beast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hamu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamu/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I am not a doctor nor am I a biologist, do not think too deeply about the events that happen in this fic.
> 
> Seiji tops. "Wound frottage" might be a more correct term but I thought the spirit of the tag was there so I kept it anyway.

Seiji swirls his glass of red wine, the deep red liquid glistening like rubies in the dimmed light. "Are you not hungry, Daichi?" 

I shift from side to side uneasily. "Mm, it's not that..." The steak in front of me does look pretty damn good. Seiji wasn't ever much of a cook in the past (not that I was any better), but I guess anybody can learn anything if given the right amount of time and motivation. And Seiji's smart, too. Way smarter than I am. He only needed to try out a handful of recipes before finding his favored technique, and has adjusted it to fit his own unusual tastes. 

... Ugh. I shouldn't be thinking about it. Better off to eat it and not think about it. 

"It's just, you know," I say, trying to keep the conversation light, trying to ignore what I'm doing. The fork slides right through the tender flesh. Almost reminds me of when Seiji cut my finger off. Shit. I have to keep it together. "Got a lot on my mind. Being a teacher is tough. I never thought it'd be easy, but..." Seiji watches me intently, his chin resting on his folded fingers. A bead of sweat trickles down the back of my neck. "Well, haha, there's a lot more kids like me than I ever thought. Can you believe it? Just a few days ago, one of my kids got abandoned." I frown, stabbing the small, bite-sized portion I sliced off. After a few seconds, I inhale deeply, closing my eyes. Keep it together, Daichi. I put the piece of meat in my mouth and chew. Seiji really has perfected his craft; the first few times I tried his recipe, the meat was gamey and tough. It still has a... unique flavor, but it's extremely tender. If I didn't know what it was, I'd probably even enjoy it. I swallow as fast as I can and try to chase down the taste with some mashed potatoes and broccoli. 

"That does sound difficult," Seiji says gravely. He takes a short sip of wine and carves into his own steak. "It's never good for a parent to abandon their child. Crimes like that are unforgivable. Wouldn't you agree?" 

There's no light in Seiji's eyes as he scrutinizes me. "Yeah, I guess so." I don't completely agree, at least not in my own case. Maybe my parents somehow knew what the future was going to hold for me and ran away as fast as they could. I can't blame them for that. 

Seiji leans back in his chair and sighs deeply, taking a bite of his steak. I don't think I'll ever get used to him eating meat this enthusiastically. He still has table manners, but he focuses all of his attention on the piece of flesh in front of him, ignoring the vegetables and potatoes. "I'm sure they'll get their comeuppance someday. They always do." 

"Mm."

A small part of me wishes that I could run away, but this is the only thing that has stayed consistent throughout my pathetic life. Seiji. Even before the hotel, he was the only good thing in my life. And now that we're out... we're the only people who really understand what the other has been through. Things might be extremely fucked up now, but it's my fault that this happened in the first place. I can't abandon him like that. 

\- Even though I know that I probably should, or that any reasonable person would. Seiji did a good job cleaning up today, but I can smell the blood on him still. He always says that human meat tastes the best in the first 24 hours after slaughter. He hasn't made me watch since the first time, but regular meat doesn't satisfy Seiji anymore. I'm sure the sick fucks that trapped us have something to do with Seiji getting away with everything, too. It's like they're still toying with us. 

I stare down at the thigh in front of me, my stomach churning. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. 

Seiji exhales slowly through his nose, and I raise my eyes to look at him. He's gazing at me with a peculiar fondness. "The yield on this one was pretty good," he says. "I should have enough to feed you for several weeks." 

My heart races, and I swallow down my fear. A single tear trickles down my right cheek. - Ah. I wipe it away. I didn't realize that I was getting teary eyed. I wipe the back of my shirt sleeve over my prosthetic eye (the best that Seiji could afford). "Thank you," I say, trying to stop my voice from trembling. 

"Here." He slides his chair next to mine and cuts off a piece of my steak. "Best eat up. I've never seen you turn down a delicious steak before." He lifts the fork to my mouth expectantly. 

It's just steak, it's just steak... 

Juices flood my mouth as I bite down, my eyes watering. Seiji tenderly wipes at my cheeks with his spare hand, smiling at me gently. "I'm so glad that we live together and that we get to share meals. It really wasn't the same doing this without you, Daichi." 

"Yeah," I manage after I swallow down the meat. 

I can remember it clearly. The last day when we were in the hotel, our final task. I either had to get Seiji off without touching his dick, or... Seiji had to take a bite out of me and swallow. Obviously, there was only one real choice. I hated seeing Seiji getting debased and used. If Seiji had to take a bite out of me, then that was that. He chose my outer thigh, high up enough that boxers and swimming trunks would hide the scar. 

I still remember his bloody mouth, and the way it tasted after he swallowed. 

He didn't throw up afterwards. I did. The bite throbbed, angry and pulsing, as I emptied my stomach into the toilet. 

After we got home, he doted on me, making sure that my wound was healing properly and that I was taking all of my antibiotics and painkillers. Being cared for like that both felt like everything I could have ever wanted and the most smothering experience ever. Not much has changed since then, I guess. 

"Daichi." I snap out of my memories, my eye focusing on Seiji. The plate in front of me is empty. I guess I ate everything while I was thinking about other things. Man, I need to learn to stop spacing out... "Let's go to bed." 

I pick up the glass of wine and down it in one gulp. "Okay." If Seiji is off-put by this display, he says nothing. He merely drags me to the bedroom without a word. 

Seiji is calculated, has rituals that he always follows. This is no different. We've slept in the same bed on and off for a couple of years now, so this isn't anything new, but it still makes my blood race through my veins. Alcohol makes it a bit easier. I still don't drink enough that it's a problem, probably, but, you know. 

A plastic sheet is placed over the bed. I take in one long, shaky breath, and start pulling off my clothes. Seiji strips, too, much faster than I do. Long gone are the days where we would each have a shower before and after sex. I wonder if Seiji can smell my fear. I wonder if it turns him on. 

Once I'm naked, I lie down on the bed. Seiji looms over me, kissing the side of my neck, as something cold and smooth traces over my thigh. The sharp tip traces over the rough, jagged scar of Seiji's teeth. I always thought Seiji was perfect, but I've traced over those marks thousands of times. Who knew that he had a little chip on his incisor? The thought makes me feel a little hysterical, to be honest. I feel it as Seiji bites down on my lip, which almost distracts me enough to not feel the edge of Seiji's knife slice through the unblemished flesh of my thigh. 

I pant as I smell my own blood, heady and thick in the air. This never feels _good_ , exactly, but my dick throbs against my stomach, fully hard. I kiss Seiji back, gripping onto his hair as the sweet pleasure of pain radiates from my wound. A groan slips from my throat as Seiji places his knife on the side of the bed and replaces the blade with his fingers, digging into the torn skin. Despite my urge to slam my legs together, preventing any further injury, I spread myself wider for him. He sighs, slipping his tongue into my mouth, and teases at the cut. Blood drips onto the plastic sheet underneath me. The underside of my leg is getting sticky. 

Sometimes, getting a little hurt now will save you from a world of hurt later. At least, I think that's true. And this could be worse.

Seiji picks up the knife again, stained with my blood, and traces my sternum with the tip as he positions himself against my thigh. I whine, half in pain, half in pleasure, as Seiji presses the tip of his dick against my new hole. It's shallow, so he can't thrust in very far, but he rubs against me, tearing my flesh open. I dig my fingers into his back and moan, my cock shamefully leaking precome on my stomach. 

Seiji wasn't the only person who got fucked up by the hotel. If anything, I'm more deranged than him. Why is it that I'm getting turned on by him tearing me apart? I used to be freaked out by things like this, but now I can't imagine intimacy any other way. 

The spine of Seiji's knife rests against my jugular, and I pant heavily. "Seiji," I moan. It'd be so easy. He could end me right now. It would be all over, and then I'd be a part of Seiji forever - more than I already am. 

He growls, biting my shoulder, as he fucks against me more roughly. This is what we've become: two animals desperately rutting against each other as we chase death. The thought of bleeding out underneath Seiji, his teeth inside of me, my blood covering his entire body, turns me on more than I want to admit. My heat flowing through Seiji's veins... his strong and precise movements making all the warmth drain from my body...

I haven't touched myself, nor is Seiji touching me, but I can feel myself already coming close to coming. I know better than to reach down and start stroking myself, but I grind against Seiji's cock, trying to make him fuck me harder. Maybe someday he'll destroy some important artery in my leg and I'll be done for. 

I wonder what excuse they'd come up for when I disappear. It seems like it's more of an inevitability than a hypothetical situation. 

Seiji growls as he comes, his white jizz turning pink as it mingles with my blood. The sensation stings, and I groan in pain. Seiji stares at me, eyes half-lidded, as he drags the tip of his knife across my throat. Fear bubbles in my chest, threatening to burst, tearing me open from the inside out. 

(I wonder what part of me Seiji would eat first, if this metaphorical situation were to actually happen. My heart?)

My vision goes black as I come, gripping onto the sheets tightly as Seiji rubs his bloody dick all over my thigh. He stares down at me blankly as he goes soft. Despite the fact that he has the blood of at least two dozen people running through his veins, he looks entirely empty, soulless. I wonder if I look the same. 

There's salvation in Seiji's hand, just out of reach. He always was the one who was stronger, better. I reach out towards him, but my hand fumbles as he pulls away from me, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'm going to take a bath," Seiji says. "Make sure to take a cold shower when you wash up." 

"Mm." I sit up and trace the minor cuts on my chest. He doesn't tell me to not pick at them. He'll take care of it later, probably. He always does. 

He appreciates scars more than he used to, I think. But I guess he doesn't want me to die just yet. 

I laugh to myself, a tear trickling down my cheek. _Not yet._


End file.
